Carrier (1999) (60 page)

 

 

This morning found everyone on
GW
busy getting things ready for the planned invasion. The actual time of the invasion was a secret to most people on the GW, including me. I assumed, like just about everyone else, that the Marines of the 24th MEU (SOC) would hit the Camp Lejeune beaches sometime around midnight of the following evening—a tactical time that had become more or less standard in the last few JTFEXs. Meanwhile, I wanted to head up to Flight Deck Control for a small ceremony that has been a tradition going back centuries. Today, Captain Groothousen, the
GW
’s XO, would leave the ship and officially hand over the job to Commander Chuck Smith, a fast-tracked flier from the S-3 Viking community. In a few months, Groothousen (“Groot” to his friends) would take over command of the
Shreveport
(LPD-12), over in the
Guam
ARG, which was the next step on the way to command of his own flattop. Around noon, the ship’s department heads met in the Flight Deck Control Room, where they said their final good-byes to “Groot.” After he headed across the flight deck to the waiting COD aircraft, the various department heads left the room and went back to their tasks; but I lagged behind to watch the activities.

Flight Deck Control, at the base of the island, monitors and controls the movement of aircraft, personnel, and equipment on the flight and hangar decks. On a pair of scale models of the flight and hangar decks, movable templates show the location of aircraft (with their wings folded) and equipment (such as tractors, firefighting trucks, etc.). Meanwhile, on the walls there are a series of transparent status boards, upon which are noted (in grease pencil) the side numbers of every aircraft aboard the flattop. You can see at a glance on these boards what every aircraft based aboard the ship is doing, how it is loaded, and who is flying it. The models and templates are moved by skilled aircraft handlers, who know just how much room you need to park a line of aircraft in the smallest possible space. Decades of experience have gone into the procedures that run the flight and hangar decks, and it is likely that they will continue for as long as Americans take aircraft to sea.

That night, as the aircraft continued their round-the-clock shuttle over the beach, John, Lieutenant Navritril, and I joined Commander Smith for a short visit in his new quarters. The XO’s quarters aboard a
Nimitz-
class carrier are quite pleasant, though the lack of time that he gets to spend there more than makes up for the few pleasures. With Commander Smith sitting at his desk, the rest of us found comfortable spots on the couches, and we talked of how he had come to be here tonight. He talked of the path to command of a carrier, and why he supports nuclear propulsion for future U.S. flattops. He also spent a few minutes talking about the fine people and procedures that Captain Groothousen had left him. As the minutes became an hour, he talked of his experiences on the way to this job, and how many good jobs the folks coming out of the S-3 Viking community were getting. About the only thing missing was a good cigar and a snifter of brandy to go with it. But the U.S. Navy is “dry” and smoking is rapidly leaving our ships as an allowable vice. What stimulation Chuck Smith would find aboard the GW, he would have to find on his own. As the new mayor of almost six thousand people, he undoubtedly would over the next two years. As we rose, the chaplain came over the 1MC to announce the command to darken ship for the night and say a prayer. Heading up the ladders to my stateroom, I again was reminded why I love the Navy so much. Here were thousands of young men and women, going to sea to preserve the kinds of things I love America for. As I went to sleep, I felt the safety of knowing that good people were around me.

Almost two weeks earlier, Admiral Mullen had mentioned that Colonel Richard Natonski, the CO of the 24th MEU (SOC), was a “sneaky” kind of Marine. He proved it when he decided to invade Camp Lejeune before the sun went down. At 1600 (4 P.M.), the first elements of Battalion Landing Team (BLT) 3-6 began to hit the beaches and landing zones around the town of Temal (actually the communities around the New River inlet), and a battalion of the 82nd Airborne Division began to drop from the skies. I heard later that the Koronan troops (being played by several battalions of the 2nd Marine Division) had been caught getting ready to watch the opening game of Monday Night Football. The truth was that the colonel’s bold move had stolen a march on them; and with the Koronan force already heavily depleted by air and missile strikes from the
GW
group, the 24th MEU (SOC) made rapid progress.

Through it all, the round-the-clock flight schedule continued, although you could see the fatigue in the movements of the air crews and flight deck personnel. They had done their jobs well.

 

 

I awoke this last morning of the exercise to the sound of Joe Navritril knocking on my stateroom door. As I opened up, he informed me with a smile that the exercise would be terminated in a few hours. Since the reoc- cupation of Kartuna was essentially complete, he had already arranged seats for John and me on the midday COD flight back to NAS Norfolk. After packing, I headed to the wardroom for a quick breakfast. Around 1000 hours (10:00 A.M.), Captain Rutheford came up on the 1MC and addressed the ship. “The ENDEX [End of Exercise] time has been declared,” he announced, “and we’ll be home tomorrow. I am therefore ordering an immediate suspension of flight operations. I hope everyone can take a breather before we take the
GW
back to the carrier dock at Norfolk.”

All over the ship, you could feel a collective sigh as the tension of the exercise passed.

During the next hour John and I paid our mess bills (yes, the Navy makes me pay to eat on their ships), bought a few patches and “zap” stickers from the squadron stores, and made our farewells. As noon approached, we headed up to the ATO, grabbed our float coats and cranial helmets, and waited for the word to move out to the flight deck. Soon after the command came, we marched up the stairs to the flight deck, where we had the opportunity to see one more impressive sight before the C-2A Greyhound taxied to the catapult. Now that the ENDEX time was now a matter of record, the ships of STANAFORLANT had requested to make a parade past the GW before they headed home to Europe.

The USS
South Carolina
(CGN-37) deploys on October 3rd, 1997. Part of the escort force assigned to the
George Washington
battle group, the nuclear cruiser was on her final deployment. She was decommissioned when she returned.

Soon
Witte De With,
Admiral Peter van der Graaf’s flag flying on her halyard, came alongside. As the rest of the multinational force passed in review, the crew chiefs buckled us into our seats and raised the cargo ramp. Once again, the familiar sounds of the COD aircraft filled our ears, and we prepared for the thrill of a catapult shot. Two seconds and more than a few heartbeats later, we were airborne, flying northwest toward NAS Norfolk. Our trip aboard the
GW
was over. But for the personnel of the battle group, it was a new beginning. School was out and they were about to graduate to the job they had all sought. A trip to the other side of the world to support American interests overseas.

In October 1997, John and I drove south one more time to say good-bye to the men and women who had been our shipmates the previous month, to walk the flight deck one more time, and see how ready the GW was for her six-month cruise. The first thing we noticed when we stepped aboard was the non-skid coating up on the “roof.” During JTFEX 97-3, it had been worn to bare metal. Now it was factory fresh and ready to receive Captain Stufflebeem’s airplanes. Down below, supplies were being loaded and personnel were bringing aboard the last of their personal items. Most of the crew would stay aboard that night. As the sun set over the James River, we returned to our hotel and asked for an
early
wake-up call, so we could take part in a very moving ritual: the sailing of the GW battle group.

The gathering began before dawn, as the families and friends came down to the carrier dock at Naval Station Norfolk to see the
GW
off. For most, there was a quick trip to the McDonald’s across the street for an Egg McMuffin and some coffee. Most of the crew had stayed aboard the night before, including Lieutenant Joe Navritril, who had said good-bye to his family in Maryland several days earlier. All the officers and men were in their white uniforms, looking distinctly cooler than they had four weeks earlier. The tropical heat of summer had given way to a pleasant fall in the Mid-Atlantic region, and this morning was cool and sweet.

As a rose-colored sunrise began to appear over the eastern sky, the last of the preparations for sailing came to an end. Now it was time for a little public-relations work. Joe Navritril and several of his staff were herding television camera crews and newspaper reporters around the dock, shooting pictures of Captain Rutheford taking a ceremonial sword from a George Washington lookalike. Command Master Chief Kevin Lavin prowled the dock with Commander Smith, herding the last of the late arrivals aboard the ship. Both shook our hands good-bye, and headed aboard to get to their sailing stations. At the same time, the crowd of several hundred families and well-wishers began to hold up their signs of encouragement for their sailors on board the
GW.

What followed was a duplicate of the sailing a month earlier, with Captain Rutheford again at the helm. With an HH-60G helicopter overhead for security and guidance, Chuck Smith ordered the last lines brought over and the brows raised. At precisely 0800 hours (8 A.M.), a signal was given, the American flag was raised, and over a thousand sailors in their best whites manned the sides. This impressive sight was made even more so by the emotions of the people left behind on the dock—some sobbing, some stoically silent, some talking nervously.

As the tugs pushed the
GW
into the channel, the crowd began to move to various points around the bay to watch the carrier head out. As John and I walked up the dock to our cars, we stopped and chatted with a young woman wearing a cruise jacket that must have belonged to one of the sailors on board. She just sat there watching the ship and her man move into the channel, then walked with us back to the cars. Her Sailor was a member of the CVW-1 staff, and they were planning to meet in Europe for the holidays. As we parted, though, John and I had the terrible feeling that she might not get the chance. The affairs of the world were going their usual chaotic way. Already that morning, the
Nimitz
battle group had been ordered to the Persian Gulf, to show the flag in the face of renewed tension between Iraq and Iran. And the crisis that would bring the
GW
to the Gulf was only a month away.

Now, though, the GW began to move down the channel, followed at ten-minute intervals by the
Normandy, Guam, South Carolina,
and
Seattle.
Again, at bases up and down the Atlantic coast, other ships of the battle group and ARG were sailing, planning to rendezvous off the Virginia capes the following day. CVW-1 flew aboard that afternoon, and the 24th MEU (SOC) was already loading down at Moorehead City, North Carolina. As I drove out of the Naval station several hours later, I passed by the British aircraft carrier HMS
Invincible
(R 05) and her battle group, which were making a port visit of their own. Ironically, these same ships would also wind up in the Persian Gulf several months later, along with the
Nimitz
and
GW.
Before that, though, there would be some of the planned exercises and port visits that had been scheduled before Saddam’s newest troublemaking.

The GW battle group and
Guam
ARG took part in Operation Bright Star 97, the annual joint U.S./Egyptian maneuvers in the desert west of Cairo. However, by mid-November, the crisis over the UN weapons inspectors had broken, and the plans to split the battle group were already in the works. The
GW, Normandy, Carney, Annapolis,
and
Seattle
would make a run through the Suez Canal and Red Sea, following a short port visit to Haifa, Israel. The rest of the group would stay in the Mediterranean with the
Guam
ARG to support operations in Bosnia, and generally “show the flag.”
⁷⁹
On the night of November 20th/21st, the GW and her escorts went to GQ, ran through the Straits of Hormuz, and joined the
Nimitz
group in flying patrols over Southern Iraq. The men and women of the battle group never did get their Christmas in Europe.